


he, who i love

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:29:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22991752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Jaskier looked forward to these nights the most; he was playing in a rundown tavern in a small town near the coast, coins gathered at his feet, knowing that at any moment Geralt would come bursting through the door.He spun on his heels, strumming his lute with nimble fingers, the mark of a practiced player.Jaskier had thought he’d reached his peak when he was younger. He had been proven wrong, of course, practice truly did make perfect. He was getting more attention than ever, and only half of it probably had to do with his new songs, all depicting the Witcher’s love story with a bard of the human variety.He never directly mentioned himself, but the people had made the connection fairly easily, anyway.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 315





	he, who i love

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: queermight  
> tumblr: korrmin

Jaskier looked forward to these nights the most; he was playing in a rundown tavern in a small town near the coast, coins gathered at his feet, knowing that at any moment Geralt would come bursting through the door.

He spun on his heels, strumming his lute with nimble fingers, the mark of a practiced player.

Jaskier had thought he’d reached his peak when he was younger. He had been proven wrong, of course, practice truly _did_ make perfect. He was getting more attention than ever, and only _half_ of it probably had to do with his new songs, all depicting the Witcher’s love story with a bard of the human variety.

He never directly mentioned himself, but the people had made the connection fairly easily, anyway.

The benefits of having Yennefer had a friend? She had enchanted quills for them; whenever they wrote a letter and let it go during a windy day (it _had_ to be windy, she’d told them firmly, or the spell wouldn’t work) the letter would eventually find the other person. There was no controlling how torn up the letter got, though, so sometimes Jaskier would have to laugh and send back a reply with a simple _repeat that._

Their last letters had been shared a couple days ago;

Jaskier had written poetry, like usual, drowning Geralt in pretty words and compliments.

Geralt, the simpleton, had just responded bluntly as ever. (Jaskier loved him _despite_ his flaws.)

None of that mattered, though, because they had eventually reached an agreement: they would meet, here, on the 28th. It had been two weeks since they’d last seen each other and Jaskier felt each day like a knife twisting in his chest.

He missed his partner more than even pretty words could explain.

Jaskier was in the middle of a new song he’d written about his last encounter with Geralt when the door to the tavern opened and Jaskier grinned, big, big, eyes sparkling at the sight of Geralt, just as beautiful as ever. Witchers aged very slowly, almost not at all, and so Geralt predictably looked the same as always with his light hair and striking eyes and _very_ fit body (Jaskier would know).

Jaskier did not have the same luxury and he knew it; he had definitely aged over the years – much of his hair had gone gray and he had wrinkles around his eyes, his mouth. His body had at least mostly stayed the same, thanks to his traveling.

Sometimes he wondered what Geralt even saw in him, but then sometimes – like right now – Geralt would look at him like he was the most gorgeous thing in the room and Jaskier would feel like he was on top of the world, like nothing could ever knock him off.

Jaskier was still singing – he was a professional, thank you very much – but Geralt obviously did not care as much as he did; he moved quickly across the tavern and stopped right in front of Jaskier, ignoring the confused mumbles from the patrons.

Jaskier smartly, even without being warned, placed his lute to the side on the floor.

Without missing a beat, Geralt wrapped him up in his arms and swept him – literally – off his feet, spinning him around. Jaskier was not a small man, but Geralt spun him like he weighed nothing. He laughed, and when Geralt finally stopped he grinned at him giddily.

“I’m assuming this means you missed me too?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

Geralt smiled, a soft thing, and learned in to kiss him, their lips barely brushing,

“Can’t you at least wait until he’s finished the song?” a patron called out with a hint of amusement.

Geralt growled and pulled back, glaring at the patron. Jaskier laughed again, biting the inside of his cheek. Leaning up, he nipped playfully at Geralt’s ear and whispered, “One kiss should be okay.”

Satisfied with that, apparently, Geralt turned back and kissed him, _hard_. Jaskier would’ve been knocked off his feet if Geralt hadn’t been holding him, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Jaskier kissed back, giving as good as he got.

Growling again, low in his throat, a sound that went straight to Jaskier’s cock, Geralt tugged him closer.

“Not that I’m _not_ enjoying this,” another patron – a woman – said, “but – ”

Jaskier pulled back, eyes bright, and rubbed their noses together, “Let me finish, okay?” he said, low. “Then you can spend all night doing whatever you want to me,” he assured him, and he thrilled at the way Geralt’s eyes darkened, flickering to his mouth.

“I like the sound of that,” he replied roughly, and Jaskier grinned, pushing him back.

“Patience is a virtue, dear heart,” he said with a wink. “Sit, enjoy the show.”

Geralt did not look pleased but he did listen, grabbing the closest chair and plopping down. Jaskier was still smiling as he picked his lute up off the floor and cleared his throat. “Sorry for the interruption, folks,” he said, but he wasn’t sorry at all and he knew Geralt felt the same way.

His skin still tingled with the ghost of Geralt’s touch, after so long apart, as he finished the song.

The patrons cheered for him and tossed more coins, which bounced off the floor and rolled around to stop at his feet. Jaskier almost forgot to pick them up he was so distracted by Geralt, who was _right fucking there,_ just _begging_ to be touched.

But money was important and he knew Geralt would chide him.

So he ducked down, knees aching because seriously _fuck_ getting older, and gathered them, shoveling the coins into his bag. Finished, he stood up and walked over to Geralt, who was watching him with dark eyes. He grinned and sat in his lap, sprawling out as he liked to do. Geralt steadied him, a hand on his back.

“Did you see that?” he purred. “I made enough to get us a nice room at the local in for _weeks_.”

Geralt snorted, “You’re adored,” he said, rubbing his hand up and down his back almost idly. “Thanks to me.”

Jaskier gasped, fake offended, “Because of _us_ , dear,” he corrected with a lopsided grin. He shifted in Geralt’s lap and there was no denying what he felt poking him in the ass. “Ohh, someone really _is_ happy to see me,” he said, eyes twinkling.

“You need to start acting your age,” he chided, but Jaskier just pecked him on the lips, soft and light.

“Please,” he breathed, “You love me just the way I am.”

Geralt shifted, sliding his arms around Jaskier’s waist. He leaned his head against Jaskier’s chest, no doubt listening to his heartbeat as he was ought to do. Jaskier smiled softly and pet his hair. “I really do,” he said finally, and Jaskier’s heart fluttered behind his ribs. He wondered if Geralt could hear that, too. He pulled back. “Come on; we should get that room you were talking about.”

Jaskier pressed a kiss to his forehead before climbing off his lap. Geralt stood up and adjusted his pants while Jaskier just tried not to laugh.

“You are not leaving me again for _at least_ a month,” Jaskier said on their way to the inn. “I’m getting too old for this, Geralt.” He was mostly joking, but he also wasn’t. He _was_ getting older and he wasn’t scared of dying, not quite, but he _was_ afraid of dying alone while Geralt was off hunting some monster across the Continent.

Geralt reached for his hand, slotting their fingers together. He squeezed, once, a silent comfort, like he could tell what Jaskier was thinking. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”


End file.
